


Friday Night's Are For Frights

by iwilltry_tocarryon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 13:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwilltry_tocarryon/pseuds/iwilltry_tocarryon
Summary: One-shot Halloween AU pic based on a (slightly altered) prompt: Person a and person b are watching a horror movie, even though person b is terrified of horror movies.





	Friday Night's Are For Frights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClarkeGriffinTitties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarkeGriffinTitties/gifts).



> I'm not really sure how great this is gonna be, but I got it done, so that's really all I can ask of myself haha. I haven't written fics in a while, it was actually quite difficult as I've gotten used to script format and style of writing, but I hope it's semi-okay! I have other prompts that I might get around to for Halloween!! 
> 
> Mostly did this for Julz (clarkegriffinspoobybooby) cause she's a sweet lil apple strudel, who constantly encouraged and motivated me to write/finish this. I'm only capable of writing for others, so come yell at me on tumblr to write you something or just say hi (iwilltry-tocarryon)

Let the record show that Bellamy doesn’t like to watch scary movies. He never has, and never will. He loves Halloween more than any holiday, but horror movies are a hard no for him. All of his friends even stopped trying to get him to watch any…. all except for the likes of one friend, Clarke Griffin. Nothing stops Clarke. 

It started like this: she pleaded with him to watch one, for her birthday, claiming that’s literally the only thing she wanted, and he couldn’t tell her no on her birthday. The second time she got him to watch one was because she was having a really bad day, it was the anniversary of her dad’s death, and he couldn’t say no to her then, either. Then he watched another one with her because it was Tuesday and she asked? And he just couldn’t say no, okay. But after that one, he swore off scary movies forever…

“Finally! I think I’ve found us the perfect scary movie.” Obviously, Clarke didn’t get the memo. 

He’s not even fully through the door when he hears her exasperated voice. The sight of her looking adorable, sprawled out across the couch donning ghost, knee high socks is almost enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Hey, Clarke, my day was great, thanks for asking,” he trudges on, despite her side eye. “That’s what you said about the last one we watched… three weeks ago, which by the way, I’m still having nightmares about.” He drops his stuff off at the door, feeling pounds of tension melt away. It definitely wasn’t Clarke’s presence or anything, absolutely not. He was just ecstatic to be home, yeah, sure. 

“Bellamy, that one was a joke. It shouldn’t even be considered a horror movie.” She deadpans, not even looking up as she bobs her feet back and forth. 

“The lady was crawling on the ceiling. And her eyes were all,” he wildly gesticulates, “rolling around in her skull. If that’s not horror, I don’t know what is.”

“I’ll agree with that.” She gives him a teasing look, “it’s not my fault you’re such a scaredy cat.”

He fondly tugs at a stray curl as he passes her, heading to the kitchen. “Not a scaredy cat, I just know my limits,” he yells out, “unlike some people.”

“Fine. Don’t watch it.” Bellamy can hear her pout and huff. “You’ll just be hearing random screams and scary music from your bedroom, and curiosity will get the better of you and you’ll have to come investigate what’s going on.” It’s so matter of fact speaking. Classic Clarke.

He grins, spotting his favorite beer from the store way across town. “You’re manipulating me, and I’m pissed that it’s working.” He strolls back into the living room, and unceremoniously plops down next to her, close enough that Clarke’s breath hitches.

She grabs one of the opened beers and chugs it, hoping to cover up the fluster flittering around. “How about I let you pick between two movies, that seems fair.”

Playfully, he rolls his eyes while kicking his shoes off, getting more comfortable. “I love choosing my own death and demise.”

Clarke waves him off, “okay, so we have the Hitcher or the Thing— “

“The Hitcher.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but if anything, that just makes her look cuter. “I didn’t even tell you what either of them are about.”

“Clarke, just because I don’t watch horror movies, doesn’t mean I don’t know the classics.” He takes a swig of his beer. “I’m sticking with the Hitcher because that can’t possibly be scary, right? I mean, picking up a serial killer hitchhiker? Never gonna happen to me. Implausible. I don’t pick up anyone, nor do I plan to. Thus, that is the most logical choice.”

“Who even says ‘thus’ in casual conversation, you nerd.” She scrunches her nose up in thought. “Never mind, I wanna watch the Thing.”

He snorts, shaking his head, tendrils of inky black curls falling in his face. “Whatever the hell you want, Princess.” It’s not like it’s a big deal to Bellamy either way, they’d both end up freaking him out.

“Next weekend, we can watch whatever you want.”

“Great, Netflix just added some new documentaries that look— “

“Ugh,” she tosses her head back, dramatically, hitting Bellamy’s arm that’s resting on the back of the couch. “Can you at least turn the lights out?”

He props his feet up on the table and closes his eyes, smug smirk seeping across his face. It’s obvious he’s not getting up anytime soon. He doesn’t care if there’s a light or not, but he knows Clarke does. She’s the one who wants it to be pitch black so it can feel spookier.

She concedes, sighing, as Bellamy’s eyes pop back open. 

When she stands up from the couch, the blanket falls away, and Bellamy tries really hard not to let his gaze wander. He tries really hard not to watch the way her legs move, the curvature of her ass in her cute, flannel Halloween pajamas.

He averts his eyes forward when she turns around and walks back, throwing herself on the couch. He tells himself not to read too much into the larger space she left between the two of them, but his mind is spiraling. It shuts up as soon as she spreads the blanket across them, and smirks. 

“You’re smiling now, but you won’t be once this movie comes on.”

And just like that, the dread is back. He was relaxed before, but he can feel the tension creeping back. Look, it’s not that he hates the idea of scary movies. In fact, there’s been many times he’s actually enjoyed the plotline of a horror movie. He just doesn’t understand why there needs to be so many jump scares and blood and for god’s sake what’s the need with all the creepy music. We get it. 

He doesn’t realize the movie is starting until he sees Clarke’s face break out in glee. He tries concentrating on the movie, but he just can’t do it. They’re not even that far in, and it’s already too creepy and weird. What in the fresh hell is this monstrosity? He finds himself jumping, trying to get as far away from the screen as possible. 

At one point, he even reaches out and squeezes Clarke’s hand, missing the shy smile on her face. He doesn’t let go.

“Nope, nope, nope,” he shakes his head, vehemently. “Hell no.” He ducks his head down and tucks it behind her shoulder, “why is it so green?! And why is his head stretching out and ripping off his body?! No thank you.”

Clarke laughs, a full belly laugh, and runs her fingers through his hair. Her nails scratch along his scalp, and he lets out a soft mewl. “There, there. I promise not to let any monsters get you,” she coos. 

Abruptly, he turns his head, only to look at her, not to whatever the hell was happening on the screen. “You must get some kind of sick, twisted pleasure out of torturing me.”

It’s only when she meets his eyes does she realize how close they’ve gotten, noses almost touching. Quickly, she retracts her hand and puts some space between them, pointing at the screen. “It’s over now, you can stop hiding behind me.”

Bellamy wants to frown, but he doesn’t. Just sits back up and turns his attention back to the screen. 

By the end of the movie, Bellamy is angled almost completely in towards Clarke, again, hardcore cringing. “Yep, I knew this was gonna be a mistake.”

“Truly a bad choice on your part. You know the solution, right?”

“Learn how to say no to you.” That’s never gonna happen, but it makes Clarke giggle. He’s known her for years, and still he can count the number of times he’s said no to her on one hand. 

Well, after the first few months they spent at each other’s throats because one is just as stubborn as the other, and they enjoyed fighting. They fought so much back then, their friends started taking bets on which one would kill the other first, when they decided to become roommates. Living together actually made the hostility dissipate, which stunned all of their friends. They then started taking bets on when they’d get their shit together and just make out.

“You’d see better results if you just watched more scary movies, and built up an immunity towards them. Repeated exposure equals desensitization.” 

“I love it when you talk psychology to me.” His smirk is what does her in. This is a side of Bellamy she doesn’t get to see, firsthand, often. Only when he gets really drunk, or is exhausted. It must be the latter, because she has only seen him drink the one beer. 

A blush blossoms on her cheek as she shoves lightly at him. “Shut up.”

He heaves himself from the couch, stretching as he stands. He misses Clarke’s gaze as his shirt slides up. “Okay, well I’m beat so I’m going to bed.”

She grabs his wrist before he gets far, “wait, we can just make a fort in the living room. You know, like old times?” She pushes down the panic in her voice, but there’s a slight tremor, which Bellamy obviously catches because he grins.

“Why, Clarke? You scared or something?”

She lets go of his wrist and makes a pfft sound, “of course not, don’t be ridiculous. I-I just thought it would be fun.” She tries not to sound too disappointed.

He crosses his arms over his chest in challenge, “if you’re not scared, then there’s no other solid reason.” He hesitates, waiting for something, but Clarke stays silent. Bellamy drops his arms and coughs at the awkwardness. “Uh, okay then. I’m off to let a demon get me.” He grins when that earns him a small smile from Clarke. 

She watches the broad expanse of his back as he trudges up the stairs. She watches the way the muscles move underneath his shirt, until he’s gone from her sight. Only then does she sigh, frustratingly, and fall down on the couch. “Jesus, Griffin, he gave you the perfect opening, and you just gaped at him. Way to go, dumbass.”

She only wallows a few seconds before picking herself up and going to bed. 

She can’t get to sleep though. She constantly tosses and turns for what feels like hours, only bolting upright when she hears sounds coming from the hallway. 

It couldn’t be Bellamy. He sleeps like the dead, he never gets up in the middle of the night. He slept through a rager their friends had. Hell, there was a tornado once, and Bellamy slept through everything.

Clarke remains still in her bed, unwavering, hoping it was just a fluke. When she hears it again, she freaks. 

Throwing the covers to the side, she tip-toes to the door, quietly, bracing herself. She flings it open and lets out a soft shriek, but there’s nothing there. “Get ahold of yourself, you’re just paranoid.” Clarke hears a noise, for the third time, and she wastes no time, darting across the living room and kitchen, up the stairs, and to Bellamy’s room.

Just as she predicts, he’s asleep on his back, sheets spilling around his waist, mouth slightly agape. She crawls on the bed and shakes him awake, “Bell? Hey, wake up.”

“Clarke?”

Oh, God, that raspy voice would be doing more things to her if she wasn’t actually a little freaked out. “I wasn’t scared when you asked me earlier, and I couldn’t think of another excuse, but now I am. I kept hearing things outside my room, but when I looked there was nothing there. Obviously, it’s a ghost, alien, something, so we have to move out immediately. I don’t wanna be that idiot who stays in a haunted place and then wonders why they ended up dead.”

By this point, Bellamy is sitting up, majorly confused, brows knit together. He only caught half of what she was saying. His big hands engulf her slender shoulders when he cups them to look at her. “Clarke, just take a breath— “

The rest of the words fall dead on his tongue as Clarke launches herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his middle, and burying her face in the space between his neck and shoulder. Her nose is cold, but he doesn’t react, too stunned. He can feel her lungs expanding and contracting under his fingertips, as he skims them across her back, mindlessly.

“Can I sleep in here?”

His fingertips falter. Clarke holds her breath afraid she’s just made a mistake and misread the entire situation. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, and pulls back to look at her with a gentle smile. He places a finger under her chin. “How about I go and check the house, would that make you feel better? I’m sure it was probably nothing.”

Clarke moves further out of his embrace, and gives him an unconvincing smile. She shakes her head, “no, you’re right. I bet it was nothing. I don’t wanna make you get out of bed just to look. I’m so stupid for waking you up like a madman.” She forces a laugh, but it falls flat. 

Bellamy grasps her forearm before she can make a run for it, caressing her arm. “You’re not stupid, Clarke. It’s okay. You can,” he inhales a shuddering breath, “you can sleep in here. Really. It’s not a big deal.” He rubs the back of his neck with his other arm. “Besides, I wasn’t really asleep earlier, I was just pretending. I’ve been lying awake thinking about those damn giant spiders since we went to bed.”

Clarke laughs as she sits back down at the edge of the bed. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Clarke,” he lets go, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “When have I ever told you no?”

Even though Bellamy didn’t mean anything by it, it rubs Clarke the wrong way. “You don’t have to say yes to everything, Bellamy.”

He shakes his head in frustration, “no, Clarke. You aren’t getting it. When have I ever said no to you?” She ducks her head, sheepishly. All Bellamy does is follow her eyes, not letting up. “Never. I think I’m physically incapable of saying no to you. Why else do you think I watch all these terrible movies that give me nightmares and freak me out? Cause you like them, and I like spending time with you. In any situation, any scenario, any setting. I could be scared out of my wits, and it’d still be worth it.”

Clarke’s body feels limp, dead weight sitting on top of his bedspread as he stares at her. All of his emotions are laid bare upon his face. It was Clarke’s turn to take the plunge.

“Earlier, I was just trying to stall. I wanted to spend more time with you. I wanted to sleep in the same room, in the same bed, you must’ve known? I thought I was being obvious. I mean, don’t get me wrong I love horror movies, but why do you think I always suggest them? Because you always get close to me and—I don’t know, I just—I like when you’re close to me.”

He scoots closer to her on the bed, heat radiating off his body. With his forefinger, he ghosts down her face, to her cheek, and finally her neck. “I like being close to you, but how about next time no horror movie. You don’t need an excuse, Clarke.” 

She smiles, warmly, nuzzling into his palm that had crept back up to her face. They stay in this moment, this bubble for a few heartbeats.

“This is nice, but can we go to sleep now? I wasn’t lying, I really was too freaked to even close my eyes.”

Clarke erupts into laughter, Bellamy not far behind her. They arrange themselves on the bed, keeping a polite distance, but Bellamy doesn’t want space. He scoops Clarke up into his arms, and pulls her close, breathing in her scent. Honey and lavender. 

Clarke burrows further into Bellamy’s embrace, tucking her arms under her chin. 

Tranquil serenity fills the space… until Clarke breaks it, “wait! I wasn’t lying either I really did hear a lot of noises.”

“Clarke, we have a cat.”

“… Oh, right.” A wave of silence crashes over them. “Hey, Bell?” He makes a sound in response. “Next week we’re gonna watch the Hitcher.”


End file.
